


Pretty Good Year

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, community: we_ship_hd_here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-05
Updated: 2007-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's eighteenth birthday is a sad affair, until Harry steps in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Good Year

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing:** Harry/Draco (pre-slash)  
>  **Warnings:** AU-ish. Flangst.   
> **A/N:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine, and the title of this story is shamelessly borrowed from Tori Amos.

“I wonder why Malfoy acted like such a wet blanket this morning,” Ron remarks mockingly. “Couldn’t he get his hair to stay in place or something?”   
  
“It’s his birthday,” Tonks supplies offhandedly, stirring her cup of coffee.   
  
“Oh?”   
  
She shrugs. “It says so in his personal file. I wouldn’t have remembered otherwise.”   
  
“Yeah. Well.” Ron snorts. “If that poncy, narcissistic git thinks we’re throwing him a party, he’d better think again!”   
  
Most of those present in the kitchen laugh, or at least crack a smile. Harry doesn’t. He stays quiet and, not for the first time, a strong sense of sympathy overcomes him when he thinks of Draco Malfoy.

Harry has learned from personal experience how badly a forgotten birthday hurts, and an intentionally ignored birthday even more so. He shakes his head and rises from his seat, deciding that even someone like Malfoy doesn’t deserve this.   
  
Quietly, he makes his way to the door.   
  
“Oi!” Moody speaks up; there’s very little anyone can sneak past him these days. “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Potter?”   
  
Harry shrugs. “Just for a walk, to get some fresh air.”   
  
“Shouldn’t someone better accompany you?” the Auror points out gruffly. “In case you’ve failed to notice: there is a war on!”   
  
“No. I’ve got my cloak, remember?”   
  
“But-“ the man begins, only to be interrupted by Lupin.   
  
“Let him go, Alastor. The boy urgently needs some time out.”   
  
Moody holds up his hands. “Fine, but if anything happens-“   
  
Harry doesn’t wait around to hear the rest of the man’s ranting. He shuts the front door behind him and hurries into town. 

* * *

  
  
Draco rests his arms under his head and stares up at the ceiling. At least they’ve given him a private room, so he can be sad and disappointed on his own. Is eighteen supposed to feel this horrible, he wonders?   
  
Not that last year’s birthday was all that much better. He spent it hiding in some cheap Muggle 'Bed and Breakfast' with Severus, worrying about his father and missing his mother something fierce.   
  
Draco sighs, well aware his childhood is definitely over and done with; his life will never be the same again.   
  
A hesitant knock at the door pulls him out of his gloomy thoughts. “Yes?” he says, and regrets it almost instantly.   
  
Harry Potter walks in, carrying a small bag.   
  
Draco grits his teeth. Of course. Who else would it be? After all, around here, he can always count on a lousy day to get even worse.   
  
“Malfoy?” the boy says.   
  
Draco sits up and replies, one eyebrow raised in challenge, “Yes, Potter?”   
  
“Um, can I come in?”   
  
Draco sneers. “Technically, you already have, and besides, this is your house, isn't it?”   
  
Harry sighs and shuts the door behind him before he takes a few steps closer to the bed.   
  
"So..." Draco crosses his arms. “What do you want?”   
  
“I er-“ Harry shoves the bag he has been holding in Draco’s direction. “Happy birthday.”   
  
“What?” Draco’s eyes widen in bewilderment, while part of him suspects this to be some kind of inappropriate, cruel joke. “How did you even know I-“   
  
Harry shrugs. “It’s in your file.”   
  
“My file. Ah.” Draco nods in understanding, but makes no move to accept his gift.   
  
“So, er-“ Harry reaches into the small bag, takes out the neatly wrapped little box and offers it to the other boy. “Don’t you want your present?”   
  
“Well, all right.”   
  
With shaking hands, Draco clumsily tears off the wrapping paper.   
  
Harry sits down next to him, unsure what else to do or say. Still, he doesn’t want to go downstairs to join the others; not just yet. He’d rather stay here.   
  
The overall atmosphere at Grimmauld Place has turned very sour lately, with people at each other’s throats practically all the time. At least Malfoy, surprisingly enough, no longer taunts anyone. He hasn’t for a long time. He just keeps to himself, clearly biding his time until the war is over and he can return home – wherever his home is now.   
  
When Draco realises what Potter bought him, he can’t help smiling. _Chocolates._ Muggle chocolates, but still, this is more than he hoped for. He looks over at Harry, who seems expectant and almost shy, and softly mutters his thanks.   
  
“Aren’t you going to try one?" Harry asks him. "I wasn’t sure which ones you’d prefer. Those were my favourites when I was a kid. Not that my aunt and uncle let me have them often, but occasionally, usually when they had one of the neighbours over, they’d-” It suddenly occurs to Harry that he’s rambling and must sound rather daft, so he stops mid-sentence.   
  
Draco, meanwhile, is giving him a suspicious look. “These haven’t been tampered with, have they?”   
  
Harry rolls his eyes. “No, of course not! Honestly, Malfoy! I’ll have one first if you don’t trust me.”   
  
“So you’ve already changed your mind about giving me the chocolates, have you, Potter?”   
  
“No, I-“ Harry begins to protest, until he spots the mischievous glint in Draco’s eyes that tells him the boy is only joking. “Oh.”   
  
“So, would you like one?” Draco asks, opening the box. He has no idea why he suddenly doesn’t mind sharing (and with Potter, no less), but he doesn’t. Maybe he’s just glad for some friendly company, even if that company comes in the form of his least favourite Gryffindor.   
  
“Yeah, okay.” Harry takes a chocolate and pops it into his mouth. “Thanks.”   
  
Draco smiles. He, too, selects a piece and not before long, a comfortable silence sets in.   
  
“So,” Draco asks after a while. “Why did you decide to bring me a birthday present? Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture.”   
  
Harry sighs. “I’ve had plenty of crappy birthdays myself when I was younger. It's no fun when your birthday doesn't mean anything.”   
  
“I see.” Draco frowns. He’s heard the rumours, of course; about how the supposed saviour of the wizarding world apparently slept in a cupboard for years because his Muggle relatives hated him. Draco prefers to let the matter rest, however. It’s really none of his business, and besides, he doesn’t want to spoil the mood. Feeling slightly nervous all of a sudden, he clears his throat. “Anyway, like I said, I do appreciate the gesture, Potter. Thank you.”   
  
“Don’t mention it.” Harry smiles and looks at the other boy.   
  
Draco has been staying at headquarters for months now. Snape dropped him off last autumn, and instructed the Order to keep him safe.   
  
Harry wasn’t at all happy about that at first, but he soon got used to having Malfoy around; probably because Malfoy has long stopped insulting him, and never makes trouble. He merely happens to be present, and looks more like he wants to vanish into thin air than anything else. Harry suspects something serious must have happened to the boy while he was on the run with Snape, something that made him grow up quickly. Either that or the dreadful events of that night in the Tower still weigh heavily on his heart.   
  
“Malfoy.” Harry coughs nervously as he gathers the courage to do something he’s been thinking of doing for a while. “Do you suppose, um-“   
  
“Yes?”   
  
“Do-You-Still-Hate-Me?” Harry blurts out.   
  
"What?" Draco looks at him quizzically. “Sorry, Potter, I didn’t quite catch that.”   
  
“Do you still hate me?” Harry asks again, slowly, as he braces himself for the answer.   
  
Draco shrugs. “Does it matter?”   
  
“It does to me,” Harry says firmly.   
  
“Very well then. If we must.” Draco smirks. “No, I don’t hate you, Potter. Frankly, I have bigger problems on my mind right now than some stupid, pointless childhood rivalry.”   
  
“Yeah.” Harry chuckles wryly. “Me too.”   
  
“Glad we sorted that out, then,” Draco says dryly. He reaches for another chocolate, coincidentally at the same time Harry does, and unexpectedly, somewhere in the middle, their fingers brush.   
  
Stunned, they look at each other.   
  
Harry thinks this is all a little too strange, and he wonders whether Malfoy felt that odd but not at all unpleasant tingle, too. Either way, he decides, now he’s here he might as well do something else he’s been intending to do for a while.   
  
“Malfoy,” he begins carefully, “seeing we’ve stopped hating one another, and we still have to live under the same roof for Merlin knows how much longer, I was wondering if, maybe, you and I could try to be friends?” He bites his lip and holds out his hand.   
  
Draco’s first reaction is a questioning frown. Chocolates and a friendship with Harry Potter; to his eleven-year-old self, this would have been like a dream come true, but now?   
  
Part of him still wants to be stubborn and vengeful, pay Potter back for that painful rejection all those years ago, but then he’s turning eighteen today, which really makes him entirely too old for such petty, childish behaviour.   
  
“All right,” Draco says. He shakes the proffered hand, and for the first time that day, he thinks his eighteenth might turn out to be a pretty good year after all. 

****


End file.
